


Thank you sir, strike up another mandolin

by AlterEagle, remi_wolf



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Allison Abbott (minor appearance), Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Dark Seattle, And then there's also, Begging, Biting, Blood Play, Breathplay, Broken Bones, Choking, Computer Viruses Infecting People, Cybernetics, Cyberpunk, Emmett Internet (background character), Evil Corporations, Fucked up effects from magical blaseball blood (including but not limited to), Heavensmaw Moonrays, Hive Mind (Seattle Corporates), Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Injury, Insulated blood, Inter-Team Sabotage, Invountary non-human vocal modulation, Knifeplay, M/M, Marking, Mentions of cult ideology, Mirror Universe, More gaslighting, Pain Kink, Possessive Behaviour, Praise Kink, Punching, Some verbal abuse, Surveillance, Synergy Blood, Temperature Play, Threats of Violence, Voyeurism, depictions of violence, dom/sub dynamics, hints of gaslighting (with old/discarded nicknames), isolation as torture, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlterEagle/pseuds/AlterEagle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf
Summary: Randall and Teddy are sworn enemies, the only acceptable relationship between the vicious Moonrays and the ruthless Corporates. The last time the Moonrays played in Seattle, the Moonrays were hunted as per tradition, and Emmett snuck some particularly nasty ransomware onto Teddy's cybernetics.Randall would've been fine calling it even there, until Teddy initiated a counterhack that's left Emmett in a cyber-coma. He's come to Seattle for revenge.Poorly-negotiated kink, between two people in opposing cults, ensues.
Relationships: Randall Marijuana/Emmett Internet, Theodore Duende/Randall Marijuana
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a team effort between myself and remi_wolf, whose [series of Dark Seattle fics](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157744) well and truly activated my almonds. I myself have been going absolutely ham with Heavensmaw Moonrays lore over the back half of the siesta, so shoutout to the Solarium for indulging me (and the folks in the Big Garage for further riffing).
> 
> The result is ~13,000 words of recontextualising Randy and Teddy's relationship in the extremely messed up setting that is the shadow/mirror universe. There's no sex in this fic, but a fair amount of kissing and a whole lot of kink. Please heed all the tags!

“Alright, Teddy. Can I call you Teddy? Clearly, I’m not making my position here clear.”

Randall flashes his winningest smile, and leans upon the service counter with both elbows and his chin on one hand. It’s been fifteen minutes since the initial shock of discovering his complaint ticket actually got picked up by the Corporate he’d hoped to see, or fifteen minutes of deepening frustration as the both of them danced around the crux of Randall’s trip to Dark Seattle.

He tries for an emotional appeal instead. “I get it, Teddy. Us Moonrays have a reputation for being a bunch of perfect, unruffled androids. Get to know us, though, and we're full of surprises. The other day, I saw Igneus do a triple somersault, haha, right? Where is he even getting that stuff from?"

"Anyway, you can be surprised - but not too surprised - if I admit that when I learned someone hacked Emmett, my teammate, after our last game here in Seattle three weeks ago, I was  _ angry _ ."

Randall watches Theo’s face, and gets nothing. Not even the tiniest flicker of acknowledgement. A pity, thinks Randall, that Emmett’s post-match gift for the Corporates’ tactical hub hadn’t utterly traumatised them, left a remnant flinch at the memory of it.

"So angry, Teddy,” and Randall shrugs at that, all nonchalant and genial. “So angry, in fact, I  _ still _ want to find the guy who did it, hook him up by his pretty little spinal ports to a roomful covered 360 degrees in cameras, and make him watch from outside his own body as I choke the life out of him."   
  


Theo smiles, a tight and tense smile as he looks at Randall, wondering what part about all of this was so difficult to understand. Perhaps if he simply states it again, explains the proper corporate position, then Randall would understand what he’s trying to say. “Yes, and we truly apologize for any sort of malicious malware that anyone comes across while in our wonderful city. However, you must understand that our systems are kept perfectly clean and orderly. Our firewalls and antivirus systems are the best money can buy, and there is simply nothing out of place. While, trust me, I understand what it’s like to see a team member helpless and locked inside their own head for hours and perhaps days-” -and oh, Theo doesn’t miss the way Randall’s eyes gleam at the mention of the ransomware- “-I think your friend needs to take responsibility for his own actions rather than blaming someone else. After all, I’m one of Jamazon’s shining corporate managers. I’m here to help. If you like, I could direct you towards our IT department in order to investigate these claims further.” 

Honestly, as much as Theo  _ does _ want to help Randall, he wishes that Randall would understand that his hands are tied with this, and honestly? He really doesn’t want to help Randall too much with what he’s asking for. 

"Does your  _ IT department _ have a discreet room with extensive internal camera coverage that I could plug a shining corporate manager into?" 

Theo purses his lips for a moment, looking at Randall before looking away, at the tablet at his side. Perhaps there is a little annoyance in his voice, but it’s very difficult to tell underneath the necessary corporate cheer. “Well, I don’t see how that could possibly assist you today! If you’d like, I could speak with my supervisors and they might be able to provide something for you? As much as I’d like to help you, Randall, you must realize that some things would cut into our bottom line too much. Still, I can speak with my supervisors to arrange something for you.”

Randall sighs-groans, slumps back in his chair like Theo’s words have wounded. "Ok.  _ Ok. _ I can't tell if your ducking behind your corporate handbook spiel is because you're the world's most masterful flirt, or because you're the most oblivious corporate drone I've had the pleasure of laying eyes on.”

“Come on, Teddy. Work with me here. You've got your own "family". People you "care" about. In, whatever fashion upper management lets you. How would you feel, if one of them took a sack of rocks to the skull for throwing a couple stones around in a Jamazon greenhouse? Doesn't seem very fair, does it?"

“What doesn’t feel fair is being held for ransom while laying in my own bed. What also doesn’t feel fair is feeling the fear and rage of my family alongside my own fear while I’m trying to get out of the hellscape your boyfriend made for me.”

“He’s not-”

“Honestly, you should be thanking me. He’s just in a void, rather than proper hell. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head over your friend. He should work his way through things in a day or two.”

“He’s - I mean - Listen. There's no need to sound so disappointed, alright? Emmett and I certainly aren't exclusive, we talked it through, and frankly? I’m  _ thrilled _ to hear that you might've taken things just a little bit personally. I was worried your corporate overlords crushed any negativity out of you bluebloods.”

“So, if you were willing to reconsider my suggestion, we could both let off a little frustration with the whole situation at each other. How about it?"

Theo sighs, rolling his eyes at the suggestion that he’s disappointed or...or jealous of Randall and  _ Emmett Internet  _ of all people. He doesn’t care about Emmett, after all. If anything, he absolutely despises Emmett. Of course he does. “Now, as much as I might enjoy the thought of letting you vent some frustrations on something other than my city, I really don’t know if I can trust you not to make a mess of Jamazon’s proprietary hardware. I wouldn’t even know what you’d be offering me in return for allowing this, even if I find your attention quite distracting enough as it is. If you convince me that it’s a valuable expenditure of my resources, then perhaps I do know of a place that would be adequate for those fantasies of yours.”

"Huh. Alright,” says Randall, and he slips a wafer-thin drive from a concealed pocket and flicks it across the counter.   


"There.  _ That's _ why Sandman sent me. I'm  _ supposed _ to be here to dump that flash drive's contents on your servers, some kind of subroutine for... It's not my wheelhouse, at any rate, and I'm pretty sure half the point was to track how long it'd go undetected across your networks and get a feel for your security. I'm pretty sure it's payroll related, nothing interesting like, say, something that'd let me mess around with your wetware, or access your Jamazon echo in whatever cubby they assigned you for naps between shifts."

The thumb drive passed across the counter piques Theo’s interest, and he hums softly as he looks over the device, curious as to what exactly Sandoval had planned with it. "Scan it, scrub it, reverse-engineer it to figure out what Crossing's next move is, humor me even and let a sanitised version sit online for ten minutes before your lot clean it up. If it means you're going to let me have a shot at figuring out which one your back-jacks will have you begging for it when I jam a knife in there... I'm easy, Teddy."   


“Gates with it, I'll even let you throw the first punch."

Theo raises an eyebrow, looking back up at Randall. “I have an actual office, thank you very much. I’m not your average corporate drone, thank you very much. But...make it a good time and I’ll let the sanitized version sit online for two hours or so. Especially if you keep going after I start begging. Follow me.”

"Oh bless, Teddy.” Randall jumps from his chair too fast, too obviously eager, and he’s practically bouncing as he waits for Theo to sign out from the tablet, close up the service desk, and lead Randall deeper into the building.

“You’ll need to let me tell the others to ignore me for twelve hours or so,” says Theo, “but then I think you can have your fun in return for this useful bit of trade.”

Randall laughs, though it’s more a single sharp and breathless exhale. “Set the scene for me, then, Teddy,” he says, low and close behind Theo in his blind spot, startlingly quick and quiet on his feet. “Just how mad can an above-average corporate drone get? Tell me what you'd do if you, you paper pusher, managed to come out on top in a brawl between us - or is that too exciting? Should we wait until you've set yourself to flight mode?"

“Oh, trust me. I’m always on top. Even if I let you have the illusion that you’re in control, I have this entire city under my watchful eye.” Theo takes a moment, glancing over his shoulder Randall to take stock of his reaction before shrugging and continuing once more. “And I can get quite furious. Touch any of my family, and I’m sure you’d be able to find out. Regardless, though, I’m fond of a more subtle approach. A few bugs embedded close to your heart so I can always know where you are and how you’re feeling. Health is always important, and an area in which Jamazon is always looking for volunteers to test our new products on.”

"Hah! Me, I'm a specimen of health - rigorous training with a real blaseball team will do that to a guy. Which makes me wonder what you’d log me for that isn't simply my comings and goings.” There’s Randall’s signature damnable grin in his voice, his bravado and charm that makes him an idol not just of Heavensmaw, but for many fans across the Plane over. ”I'm pretty sure that’s proprietary information, Teddy. That’s just rude if you don’t text me, let me know when you're... reviewing the data."

Theo doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t, simply leading the Moonray further into the maze of hallways to office.

"...I hope when you said that you knew a place, you weren't talking about your office. I wasn't exactly envisioning leaving you sprawled and spent across your desk on our first date , the picture of contrition and covered in bite marks. That's, you know. More like, third date material."

Theo raises an eyebrow as he looks over Randall before shrugging and continuing. “I assure you, you want my office. For one, it is one of the most secure rooms, and for two, the video feeds don’t lead away from there. I can ensure that we might actually be alone for the most part, unlike anywhere else in the city. Additionally, that’s probably the only place my team won’t come running to once they feel something starting to happen.”

Randall tries not to freeze when Teddy's eyes meet his, tries and fails and finds his measured footsteps faltering. Teddy's several doors down the hallway by the time Randall shakes it off, but he catches up in easy strides without breaking into a run.   
"Damn," says Randall. A little breathless, and close enough now to growl right in Teddy's ear. "And here I was thinking you were just some voyeur, a control freak, far too haughty to let anyone even think about laying a hand on you without your say-so."   
A hand claps Teddy on the shoulder, worries the back of his dress shirt collar between thumb and forefinger. It's cheap material. Doesn’t suit him, thinks Randall. Ghosts his thumb over Teddy's spine.   
"I'm glad I was wrong."

"Unlike some, I don't necessarily want my supervisors to see me in such a position without warning. And if you think this is you laying a hand on me without my say-so, I'm afraid you'd be mistaken. Such disappointing behavior from one of Heavensmaw's best and brightest." Theo still shivers at the touch, so close to one of his ports. His steps falter, and he feels the ripple of concern throughout the rest of the team, and he takes a few steps away from Randall. Soon, though. They aren’t far from his office, and he leads them down another hallway before approaching the door, carefully labelled in neat script. 

He opens the door after a moment, keeping it open wide for Randall. Inside is his desk, and then the chair with the wires and cables connected to it, and, naturally, the dozens of screens around the walls, already alive with the feeds from the city, though he could easily change that. First, though, he needs to send a message to the other Corporates so that they won’t get too worried about whatever’s going to happen to him.

Randall's assessment of the room is perfunctory, scanning the screens, recognizing a few key scenes, sweeping the walls for cameras. He spots at least two, and probable locations of at least a half dozen more.

There’s something more important in this room, though. Randall hears him close the door behind him, and closes the gap as Teddy fusses with the lock. Randall shoves Teddy into the door, seizes him by the jaw, and kisses him. 

Theo gasps into the kiss, hand falling to his side from the lock. It’s not until the concern from the others truly spikes that he reaches up to squeeze at Randall's neck, needing to get him off for just a moment. "Be a good boy and be patient. I still need to take care of a few things, unless you'd like the rest of us getting involved with this. I'm feeling selfish, though. I want you to myself instead of sharing."

Teddy can feel Randall trembling in his grip, the Moonray sharp with conflicting need. To grip and crush and break that lovely little hand at his throat, and leave Teddy with a reminder of their encounter through weeks of rehab, of reduced efficiency.

Or to tell him to squeeze harder.

Randall stills, raises his hands in a placating gesture before slowly resting one over Teddy's at his throat. Peels the hand away, digit by digit, and places a quick little kiss at the base of Teddy's thumb.

"I'll be good."

"Good." Theo’s voice is almost breathless, though, and he lingers there for a moment longer before turning back to the computers. It's three long strides to his main terminal before he settles in, sending the messages to his teammates and supervisors indicating that he’s engaging in private research and isn’t to be bothered for twelve hours, give or take. 

And then he turns the attention of the cameras onto the two of them, revealing a brilliant view of the office and the two of them from the dozen or so cameras hidden away. Already, he feels somewhat more at ease as he turns back to Randall. 

"I believe you mentioned something about cameras? Is this what you were looking for?" He hopes he doesn’t sound too eager to find out what Randall plans to do to him now.

"Oh, Bless," says Randall, and he makes it sound  _ profane _ .

"So, hah, you're obviously going to be recording the whole thing-" 

"-Obviously." 

"Hhhhright. When can I expect the highlight reel in my inbox? Four to six business days?"

Theo shrugs, a small smile on his face as he responds. "If you want a specific format and method that it gets sent to you, I'm sure I have a form for that somewhere around here. Otherwise I can handle the details."

" _ Fuck. _ ok, now I  _ know _ you're just being a blessing cocktease with that customer service script of yours. On your feet, Teddy. I'll kiss you while you're sprawled in that chair later. For now? Here." Randall indicates the floor by his feet. 

Theo raises an eyebrow as he looks at Randy before walking up to him, blinking slowly. "If you're not going to kiss me, why do you want me so close to you?"

Randall closes the distance with a hand on Teddy's shoulder, runs it through the bristly clipped hair at the base of his skull and pulls him in for another kiss. Slow and quiet, and Randall hopes his next words muttered into Teddy's cheek are too quiet for the mics to pick up. Hoping Teddy burns the words in his memory, recites them in sync with the video when he inevitably reviews the tapes. 

The mics _will_ pick up the words, just barely. They might not catch the proper shape of them, but Teddy knows that they will pick up that  _ something _ has been said. "Never said I wouldn't kiss you. Standing, sitting, on the floor, against the wall, over your desk, anywhere."

Theo doesn’t expect words like that, not as he shifts to press closer to Randy as he easily leans in to return the kiss. "You shouldn't want that," he murmurs after a moment, quiet and soft as he moves his lips to nip at Randall's ear. "You shouldn't do that, and you shouldn't want that, but...I won't stop you."

Randall hums into the dip just under Teddy's ear, runs teeth along his mastoid, the corner of his jawbone. "I'm a Moonray, Teddy. My  _ want _ is a blade in Heaven's arsenal, and to forge it and hone it is my sworn duty to the City." Teddy lets his head drop to the side, well aware of the veins and arteries and tendons under his skin should Randall choose to bite down hard enough. 

Theo’s biting his lip, trying not to make too much of a noise yet. "Then good. Tell me more about how you don't want me at all. How much you despise me and my people compared to your perfect Heavensmaw." 

Randall makes a tiny frustrated noise, but doesn’t move his mouth. The hand in Teddy's hair shifts, running fingertips down the stretch of his exposed neck. There’s the faintest scrape of nails, there. "I don't want to lie to you, Teddy." 

His other hand runs a slow index finger over Teddy's lip and his incisors, coaxing his jaws apart with a second finger. "My  _ want _ is a blade, but to  _ wield _ it is a privilege of my station." Randall breaks away, sweeps an arm around the room, and the motion is echoed in a ripple across the screens. He gazes back into Teddy's eyes, feels the primal fear and the instinctive freeze and tries to let it wash over him and past him. "Y. Y-You're worthy of Heaven," says Randall, and he has to break eye contact, and he wishes he didn't, but bless it, Teddy deserves to know. 

Everything feels too immediate as Theo looks at Randall, the words and the  _ implication _ behind them. He intimately knows the keen knife of imperfection that hangs over him, the constant need to improve himself to ensure that his team will remain safe. Randall puts his lips to Theo’s again, gentle and distracting while a hand works the top buttons of Teddy's dress shirt open. The kiss distracts Theo, though, and he leans into it as he lets Randall push the fabric of his shirt away from his body. He knows his ports are exposed and open, but he doesn’t want to pull away from Randall at all. 

"You're worthy of my station," murmurs Randall, and its blasphemy and he means it. "to wield your  _ want _ and take everything the world owes you." Shirt loosened, the hand on Teddy's neck drags lower, under the cheap fabric and across his shoulder, a cool palm splayed where Randall's thumb rests by the collarbone, tracing its contour. "You don't believe me," murmurs Randall, between the separations of their lips when the two catch breath. "But one day? One day... you will."

"Hmm. I thought you hated us, thought were were ridiculous imitations of Heavensmaw's attempts at perfection?" Theo shifts, adjusting to press his lips against Randall's throat, leaning close to him and tangling a hand in his hair. 

"N-" Randall starts, and has to catch his breath when Teddy's mouth is on the dip of his throat- "Not you. Never you." His eyes, so far constantly either sharp and alert or closed in the little interludes of rich sensation, flutter at the hand in his hair, the faint tug, the nails on Randall's scalp.

"Keep talking. I can't wait to get enough of your voice to mimic it."

"Filthy," Randall laughs, shakily. "No, I can only hate what's made you into what you are, because you're better than this, we- you, you could be perfect, you could have me by your side always and never need a copy, you could wear the white wings and a halo of eyes and be the angel that returned to tear down Dark Seattle and shattered your old team's chains, and-" and Randall breaks off, because the hand in his hair has stilled, and Teddy's looking up at him, and his expression is unreadable. There's regret in Randall's eyes when he finally says, "but none of that's happening tonight, is it?"

Theo shakes his head as he pulls away. There’s a part of him, deep and buried beneath everything that’s been ingrained in him for ages that may want that, but it’s overwhelmed by the pull to his other teammates, the ache at the thought of leaving such a perfect and beautifully efficient organization such as Jamazon. The look on Randall's face almost makes Theo feel regret, though such an emotion wasn't one he can recognize. Instead, he simply hums softly and shrugs. "We can't leave, Randall. The idea of one leaving the whole..." Theo trails off before shaking his head. "We can't break up the band. We can't leave. I think your Dudley would understand a bit of what we feel. Not much, not at all, but some of it. If that's a problem, I'd be happy to lead you back outside."

Randall just sighs, and there’s more than a hint of anger there, of fury at being denied what's rightfully his, and then he's schooled his features and smiling a sad little smile at Teddy. "That's about what I was expecting, yeah. It's alright. I'll stay. And I won't mention it again tonight." He takes Teddy's face in his hands, and as they kiss, Randall's hands drift down, down Teddy's neck and over his shoulders and down his arms as far as the half-unbuttoned shirt will let him, until he's trailing the tendons in Teddy's forearms and finally clasped the Corporate's hands gently in his own. "Only what you've offered, for tonight, then." He brings their hands up to Teddy's chest, directs fingers to the top fastened button, their lips still locked in slow exploration. Randall hums in approval as Teddy undoes another button, allows his own hands to move away and maps out Teddy's chest, his pecs, his clavicles, the inner shoulder and the muscles shifting underneath as Teddy undresses.

Theo knows that the bright blue arrows would be clear against his skin, usually a familiar comfort to him that reminded him of his team instead almost seeming like a perpetual reminder of what Randall was not allowed to have, not right now at least. "I've still offered you quite a bit. You should feel free to take advantage of what you've been given." There is a moment when Theo almost feels as though he could mention something else, something that could lead to Randall being able to take more, but that would be a Problem, and Not Allowed, and so he instead leans into the kisses, carefully unbuttoning his shirt until it can be entirely set aside. "I feel unfortunately underdressed now. Quite the disadvantage."

"Mmm, but you're too generous." He coaxes Teddy backwards even as his hands work his buttons, navigates them both into a corner of the room where Teddy can get the best look over the panopticon past Randall's shoulder. 

Theo lets Randall move and shift him, even as he can feel Randall's hand so close to the top-most of his ports. Hopefully Randall realizes just how much near-trust Theo was giving him. "And you're too indulgent." Theo moves backwards, eyes drifting from Randall's eyes to over his shoulder, just for a moment to look at his monitors, watching as Randal presses against him. His eyes fall closed as Randy kisses him again, much to his annoyance. Perhaps he'd be able to convince Randall to track down an HDMI cord to plug in. Something so that he could watch this from the cameras around them instead of trapped in his own head.

A kiss with a sense of finality, deep and quiet and perfect, with time and their bodies seeming to curve and melt into it. Randall leaves a parting bite on Teddy's lip as they break apart, cradling Teddy's head in one hand and tilting about like it’s an inspection, gauging his reaction. With some hesitancy, he says. "I'm not angry you rejected me. I know it's hard for you to consider leaving. Please believe me."

There’s a quiet snort of disbelief, and Theo shrugs. "I wouldn't blame you if you are. You're used to having your perfect computers and perfect everything in that maw of yours. Unfortunately, you can't have everything."

"A perfect computer..... hah. Yeah. He is. He really is, and... haha, it's fucked, Teddy, isn’t it?" Randall hangs his head and laughs a little, still fully clothed in the handsome blue-black and palest grey the Rays all seem to wear, and only now after so many languid kisses and hands on him does he look more than unruffled. He looks  _ unsettled _ . "It’s fucked, that I can only say that aloud, in deepest Dark Seattle to the guy who put him out of commission." Randall grins, and it doesn't reach his eyes. The hand which had been so tenderly exploring the planes of Teddy's chest digs into his shoulder. 

" _ Thanks _ ," says Randall, as he punches Teddy in the stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

Theo hadn't really meant Emmett at all. Emmett’s...well, Emmett had gotten the drop on him several times at this point. Really, this was the first time he managed to turn the tables, for once. A comfortable, maybe-teasing customer-service smile settled on his face as he let Randall touch his chest and body. The hand digging into his shoulder finally got the smile to turn into something  _ proper _ , pain that lit up his nerve endings properly, and then the punch that swiftly followed as well. Teddy crumpled, not to the floor, but at least in half. Through the pain he's laughing, a brief giddy noise as he catches his breath again. "Oh you  _ are _ spoiling me rotten, aren't you? Just heavenly, absolutely heavenly."

Teddy's laughter sets Randall's teeth on edge, and he can't put a name to what he's feeling at the sound. Disgust? Contempt? Pity? He's suddenly, acutely aware of the taste of Teddy lingering in his mouth, and he runs his tongue across his teeth, scrapes it clean on his incisors, and  _ spits _ . For a second there, he'd thought - he hoped they could just - all he wanted was- 

" _ only what you've offered. _ " 

He said he wouldn't mention it again. 

Randall settles his features by the time Teddy's got his voice back. It's just a Corporate. A muzzled thing, off-the-shelf and inoffensive, contorted by the weight of its shackles. He takes Teddy's head in both hands, almost gentle, then  _ grips _ and plunges a knee into Teddy's gut. Randall yanks the Corp upward against his instinctive urge to curl up, and snarls in his ear. 

"Tell me what you want," Randall says, and slams him head-first into the wall behind. The impact has Teddy gasping, and through everything a vaguely, near-hysterical giggle laces through it. It isn’t often that  _ he’s _ the one getting hurt. The pain ripples through the rest of his team, and he can feel the emotions in return—confused, with an edge of pleasure. 

"Just let me feel something, Randall." The words are quieter when he finally manages to get his breath back, and far more honest than he originally intended them to be. No customer-service voice, just a quiet request for someone who clearly cares for him in the wrong way - a way that will lead to either of them getting hurt beyond repair if they weren't careful. Theo doesn’t mind that so much. He thinks that he should mind that, but...he doesn’t. Randall is here, and clearly being so indulgent, even if he thinks that this is only for his own revenge.

Randall holds the Corp steady with a hand on his shoulder and another cradling his face, searching it for - Randall doesn't know. A haze lifting? A cracking mask? The Corps are  _ dregs _ , recycled repurposed and any potential diluted amongst their body corporate, doomed to be weak as their weakest. 

Yet. 

It's a sin to destroy beautiful things, an affront to Saint Rhys. Earn them, cage them, requisition them from the undeserving. Randall runs his hand through Teddy's hair, finds the tender spot already starting to bruise, and presses his fingers in. 

The only noise Theo can make is a kiss, and it's swallowed up in Randall's kiss - urgent and clashing and accidental teeth that quickly become deliberate, teeth that catch at Theo’s lips until there's a canine, a perfect grip, and the tang of blood in their mouths. Theo eagerly reciprocates, even as there's teeth and the bitter-metallic taste of blood that blooms across his lips. What does Randall want from him, truly? What does this bright shard of moonlight think is hiding underneath his corporate shell? 

What even  _ is  _ there underneath Theo’s corporate shell? 

Randall yanks Teddy off of him, pulling his head to one side to expose the smooth, bare plane of the side of his neck. "When I mark you," says Randall, and he can't quite contain a wavering of excitement in his voice at the thought of it, the  _ certainty _ of it, "would you rather it's our little secret-" -and Randall's nails dig in at the shoulder, and begin to drag toward Teddy's throat- "-or something to explain to your higher-ups?"

The question has Theo looking towards the screens, watching the way Randall curls over him, the smear of brilliant-blue blood on his lips. "Employees are to look presentable at all times. Our secret, Randall, or else you will never be able to get close to me again." Theo moves his eyes to glance at Randall, even if he shivers at the nails digging into his skin. He isn’t sure if Randall would be contrary if he actually makes a proper request one way or the other. He isn’t even sure which  _ he  _ wants. Visible, and then it will be a mark of pride that one of the Moonrays wanted an imperfect thing like him. Hidden, and perhaps Randall will return.

The hand at Teddy's neck tilts faintly, so it's tips instead of nails pressing up and under Teddy's lower jawbone. Randall's mouth moves to not quite kiss the skin between his fingers, lips brushing up Teddy's jaw until teeth are scraping his ear and Randall's whispers, scarcely audible over Teddy's uneven breaths: 

" _ One day, Teddy. I'll break you from this dreary pit and you'll walk by my side in heaven, and everyone will know you're mine. _ " 

Randall won’t be able to break him from the Corps, thinks Theo. The Corps are family, after all, and far closer to one person anymore than they are individuals, but Teddy would gladly let Heavensmaw's perfect warrior pretend to see this future if it drove him to be better, more perfect. 

Perhaps - perhaps Theo will instead steal away Randall, and watch as his veins light blue with bright synergy.

And then Randall  _ kicks _ , once, twice, thrice, slamming his boot into Teddy's knee until it no longer bears Teddy's weight, and Randall helps him sink to the ground. The kicks have Teddy properly crying out in pain, fairly sure that something tore, and it's only by virtue of Randall helping him that he doesn't entirely collapse to the floor. 

Randall's on his knees beside him, hands clasped around one of Teddy's, in a pose almost like supplication. He runs his teeth down the side of Teddy's thumb, places one soft kiss on the wrist, then clamps his jaws down mere inches below. Watching Randall above him is odd as he watches the bright flash of teeth against his skin, and Teddy lets himself brush his thumb against Randall's cheek, as well as he can manage, before he gasps again with the bite.

"You have the others so confused already. Confused and concerned about what you're doing to me." Theo grins as he looks at the cameras, watching the way Randall kneels over him and hurts him. Theo sees Randall's twitch of irritation on the cameras as he speaks of the others,  _ feels _ it in the hand that pulls his back from Randall's face and squeezes until the delicate bones shift. 

Feels Randall's possessiveness, as teeth grind across stretched tendons. 

Feels Randall's jealousy, as he closes his jaws until tiny points of skin - sharp and bright and painful - are caught and  _ break _ between Randall's incisors. 

Randall kisses the puncture, sucks at it like he's trying to draw out poison, which perhaps he wishes he was. Looks down, looks at Teddy drinking in the sight of them on the screens above, and spits bloody and blue before returning his mouth to Teddy's arm, working another mark into the forearm right below the first. 

Randall takes twenty minutes, languid and torturous, leaving a sticky, bruised trail down the inside of Teddy's arm from wrist to armpit. One hand remains clasped in Teddy's all the while, keeping the limb raised and tense. It alternates without pattern, between the thumb working gentle circles in Teddy's palm, to a crushing grip, to exploring each finger like it's a work of art, to bending Teddy's fingers this way and that like Randall's toying with snapping them in half. 

His other hand roams the rest of Teddy's body, prodding, kneading, stroking. Soothing where Randall's Insulated blood runs cool against feverish skin, agonising where the fingers dig in and explore Teddy's damaged knee, the bruise on his skull. 

Theo lets Randall work, making quiet noises every so often, though mostly, his eyes are bright and wide as he drinks in the sight of Randall over him. He can see the bright blood as it drips from the small wounds Randall makes, and he turns occasionally to look at him rather than the cameras, if only to look at the possessiveness and the lingering blue as it dulls on his lips. Even as one hand threatens to break and snap Theo’s bones, threatening weeks and months of recovery and rehab if he wasn’t considered a lost cause in the first place, and the other pokes and presses into the bruises already blooming dark and blue on his skin, he can’t manage much of a sound, and certainly not the vaguely hysterical giggling he had managed earlier. 

After a while, after he loses count of time, Teddy reaches up to pull at Randall’s hair, pulling him into another kiss that’s more teeth than proper kiss, wanting to taste how Randall’s Insulation would be different from his Synergy. 

The tug shakes Randall some from his methodic reverie, and he shifts his weight onto an elbow as Teddy guides him down, slides a hand under Teddy's head and helps him sit up a fraction. Randall's feeling indulgent, with no small amount of pride to see Teddy asking with his hands, working at Randall's hair, satisfying his  _ want _ and grasping for it after letting Randall take so much. 

Teddy  _ bites _ , and Randall feels the sting of it in his lower lip and pulls up and away before Teddy's tongue can sneak in. There's a small grin on Teddy's lips as he nearly licks at the wound that should be there on Randall's lip, but before he can manage it Randall's weight is suddenly on his throat and he can't help the panic. Randall throws his weight forward, pivots his forearm out from where it supported Teddy's head, and brings it to rest across Teddy's throat, pinning him back down to the floor. Even if it's nothing Teddy’s hasn't felt before, his body still has that momentary terror that this would be the time that's the last. 

Randall shifts his weight forward, off his knees and further onto his arm, and waits for Teddy to fall still underneath, for Teddy's panic to subside. Soon, though, the Corporate relaxes, realizing that he could still manage the very barest minimum of a breath and he sinks into this, enjoying the feeling of Randall's weight against him as he watches Randall's hands. 

"Nice try," murmurs Randall, and he leans in and wipes the miniscule silver gleam off the cutting edge of Teddy's front upper teeth. There was a stinging on them, like stepping off the bus into the sharp bright air of Breckenridge in winter, which subsided some as Randall inspected his thumb. Teddy’s teeth feel numb, cold and he can't help the wide-eyed fascination with that, especially as he sees the lack of obvious blood on Randall's thumb. The Moonray stares down at Teddy, then rolls his lip between thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard enough that it should leave a dark smear across the pad of Randall's thumb. 

Instead, when Randall brings his thumb closer, barely an inch or two above Teddy's eyes, he sees the faintest discoloration. He's had bolder marks left on him resting a hand too long on pencilled forms. The Moonrays are  _ fascinating _ , so entirely different from the Corporates, despite everything on the surface that might suggest that they’re just two teams focused on perfection. 

"You can cut us," says Randall, "but we don't bleed like you lot. Too messy. Too inelegant." He pulls down Teddy's jaw with a ring finger, hooked over the teeth and pressing into the base of Teddy's tongue, then rubs the blood-smudged thumb against the roof of Teddy's mouth. 

It’s cold. It’s unimaginably, nerve-shatteringly cold.

\---

Theo barely puts up a fight, until the cold panic set in at the taste of the Insulated blood. 

It's cold, too cold, and trying to wipe the taste of it out of his mouth leaves Teddy's tongue numb. It tastes like distance, like the fear that suffused the team the time Ollie was stranded in Heavensmaw. It tastes like being emptied of blood, of synergy, with whatever monster that drained him content to leave Teddy desolate and empty and disconnected. It is empty and cold and immediately sends a spike of pain through his skull as the taste coats his tongue and fills his mouth. It tastes of cold and loneliness and being a failure, unable to protect his team. 

He can't help the panic, and even that feels muted when it doesn't immediately radiate out to the rest of his team. His mouth is cold and that even spreads as he tries to swallow it and get it out of his mouth. 

"So alone,  _ how _ can you be so alone?" Theo can barely breathe, let alone speak, but he certainly tries, even as he's squirming to get away from Randall, as though pulling away from the hand at his neck would get rid of the taste in his mouth.

Randall doesn’t look Teddy in the eyes as the Corporate tries to get up, and he focuses his attention instead on the abuse he's subjected Teddy's arm to.

"'s not so bad," murmurs Randall, and he applies pressure to his lip again, to squeeze more of that unearthly, unflowing blood onto his thumb. "I get a choice, I guess, in who I keep close." Randall pushes his thumb into the deltopectoral triangle, where he'd nipped and broken the skin a half-dozen times right before Teddy had pulled him in for a kiss.

The noise Teddy makes, as Randall presses Insulated blood into the punctures, is exquisite. The frigid blood, pressed against the open cuts, burns Teddy with how cold it feels. What once hadn't been bleeding too badly immediately starts bleeding worse, as if that could push it away and out of his veins. It hurts, and Teddy's glad he isn't plugged into his systems, or else the pain would short everything out. 

Theo knows he's probably acting worse than he should, between the blood in his mouth and against his chest, but it  _ hurts _ more than his ruined knee, bruised skull, any of those other injuries. Randall drags his thumb down, over one nipple and down Theo’s ribs, tilting in the thumbnail as his thumb is wiped clean . His hand stops at Teddy's hip, toying with a belt loop on Teddy's slacks, before Randall digs in all his fingers and nails into the meat of Teddy's waist. 

"You probably don't get it, can't get it. I could ask you the appeal of living awash in the mediocrity of others, and I'd never understand." 

Randall shifts his weight again, a little awkwardly while trying to maintain the pressure on Teddy's throat, until his knees have Teddy boxed in. He stares down at the Corporate, whose mouth is still working to get rid of the sensation of Insulated blood. Randall laughs quietly. 

"Let me get that for you," he says, and leans in, leans harder on Teddy's neck, warns Teddy with a faint chuckle not to lick the cut in Randall's mouth. 

Theo barely processes the warning before Randall leans in, and while it certainly doesn't help the sensation of the Insulated blood, it's enough of a distraction that he can focus on that instead of the pain and the cold that feels like it's trying to seep into his bones, even despite the thrum of Synergy pushing it out. 

Randall cleans away as much as he can with lips and tongue alone, before leaning back a little, easing off of Teddy's throat, and surveying his work. "Did you want more," asks Randall, "or shall I get to work on this chest of yours."

Teddy coughs as Randall eases on his throat, more blind reflex than anything else, and he takes a shuddering breath as he tries to debate which he'd rather more. He hates the fact that he has to turn his attention properly to Randall, that he can't simply have his awareness spread across his cameras, but the sight of Randall above him  _ is _ an exquisite one. 

"Chest. Feel free to get to work on my chest." Theo can't help the grin, and the light teasing that follows. "Thought you wanted me to beg too. I don't remember doing that yet."

Randall can’t help but bristle at Teddy's insouciance, the little spark of concern guttering out as Randall settles back on his haunches, then rises high as he can on his knees and punches down,  _ hard _ , into Teddy's stomach for a third strike. The punch has Teddy gasping for breath again, hurting worse than before without the ability to crumple around it. The teasing and amused expression is wiped away as he attempts to catch his breath again, especially as it's caught in the crossed-wires and ends up almost as a giggle. He doesn't know if he can properly cry out in pain, but he supposes they'll end up seeing sooner or later with this fun.

The stomach’s a fine enough target, thinks Randall, over Teddy's choked response, though not as nearly pretty on Teddy as a fist in the throat or the nose could've been.

Still. 

One option spelt an end to any possibility of subsequent encounters, and the other, well. 

Teddy has at least ten hours, and had made it quite clear he was keen for a good choking. Seems to Randall like enough time to change Teddy's wry, detached commentary into something a little more musical, a little more honest.

By the time Teddy recovers some, Randall's reached into his boot and withdrawn a slender handful of metal. He waits for Teddy's undivided attention before he flicks the penknife open, and sets the blade with a  _ click _ .

"I would’ve gone straight on and indulged you like you asked," says Randall, and there's that calm and measured hatred in his voice again, the same one that wanted to choke out whomsoever hurt Emmett. 

Theo sees the knife, and slowly starts to look almost concerned. He doesn't say anything, and while he certainly doesn't mind bleeding, he doubts that Randall will be so sweet, especially with his words. Teddy had been  _ teasing _ . Honestly, for all Randall's perfection, he's worse than the corporation when it came down to being efficient and cold and straight-to-the-point without any deviation for teasing or fun or joking.

He thought there was supposed to be at least  _ some _ smiling in the world, even if it was broken.

"But  _ you _ clearly don't know the first thing about speaking to your betters. You-" and Randy winces, because he’s running the knife across the back of his index finger, middle knuckle, and it takes a few drags of the knife to leave a silvery line almost an inch long.

Randall breathes deep, pushes the knife point into the pads of his index and middle fingers with an unintentional hiss. Teddy’s concern quickly turns to near-fear as he watches as Randall. If he had less pride, and if he hadn't just teased that he wasn't begging yet, perhaps he'd contemplate begging to avoid this, avoid the cold blood from coming in contact with his mouth and spreading that ice-cold loneliness again. Each cut is scarcely a bee sting in size but Teddy still feels the cold, can't help the hiss as they trace an ear, down his jaw and come to rest on his lips. 

"You will thank me for this. Now suck," growls Randall.

Teddy can't beg, though, and so he keeps his eyes on Randall as he wraps his lips around his fingers, tongue exploring for a moment before he starts sucking. He knows he couldn't hide the entirety of the pain from his expression, but he tries to stay almost neutral.

Randall watches, dispassionate, seems to wait for Teddy growing accustomed to the stinging cold, the freezing pain, for Teddy's expression to quit its tiny jolts and settle into that focused look.

It takes longer than Theo would like to admit to grow accustomed to the frigid pain in his mouth from Randall's blood, but he sucks, quietly doing as told, even despite how much he hates it. At least he  _ does _ get used to it, though, and he eventually turns his attention towards his screens, desperately wishing that he could be properly connected to them, letting the overwhelming visual input subsume the limited, punishing senses of his own body.

Perhaps that would come later. If nothing else, he can watch the recording. 

Randall's letting Teddy do all the work, barely shifting the fingers in Teddy's mouth. His free hand almost-absently traces a path down Teddy's chest and stomach, following the faint, fine trail of hair down his sternum and abused abdomen. He's toying with the button at the top of Teddy's slacks when, just as Teddy’s eyes fall closed, Randall  _ twists _ the fingers resting on Teddy's tongue, and rakes them along the soft palate and across the roof of his mouth. Teddy's eyes open once more, almost surprised, even as the motion moves his head and he can't help the quiet sound that leaves his lips as Randall pulls his hands away. He didn't realize he could  _ miss _ the Insulated blood on his tongue until Randall pulled it away. 

He withdraws with a final sweep across Teddy's lips, and Randall thinks the glossy effect on Teddy's bite-swollen lower lip is quite fetching indeed.

"Disrobe me," Randall says, eyes aglitter, and he rises to as full a height as he can manage while remaining on his knees. The upper buttons of his shirt are almost certainly out of reach for Teddy spread out on the ground - Randall's grin and the single finger prodding at Teddy's bruising abs make it clear he knows.

Theo almost frowns as he looks up at Randall, frowns at the order, and he wants to obey it, but he also knows that the height doesn't entirely work. Randall's collar was approximately three inches too high for him to reach, but…

Theo watches Randall for a moment before twisting his hips, a quiet snarl on his lips as he tries to flip their positions, get Randall onto the ground so that he could disrobe Randall and take the chance to bite and nip and kiss as much of his exposed skin that he could. Still, Randall had the advantage of position, but...Theo tries to move suddenly, enough to catch Randall off-guard enough to knock his balance off to manage the maneuver.

Theo rolls onto a hip, pulls his uninjured leg up, pulls it up close as he can to his chest despite the protesting scream of muscles in his gut and the twinge as he rolls onto the side of his ruined knee, and  _ slams _ it into the inside of Randall's thigh. The lost support tips Randall forward, over Theo who's on his side now, already lifting his chest with the help of his elbow underneath.

As Randall falls forward, Teddy draws his free arm, on his elevated side, to his chest, and  _ rams _ it upward into Randall's throat. The Moonray splutters, recoils-

And  _ drops _ a palm heel into the inside of Teddy's knee. Teddy cries out, and Randall  _ grins _ . 

Randall’s movements happen faster than Theo can quite keep track of, though he very quickly realizes that he is in no way properly prepared for this fight, even if he had expected it to be simple enough. Theo’s breathing is ragged, and he can't help the cries of pain as Randall  _ steps _ on his already-abused knee. If they weren't careful, he'd probably end up with permanent damage, and that would need to be replaced, and the executives wouldn't be happy about such a waste. 

Randall’s heavy breathing is a minuscule solace to the Corporate, hard to hear over Teddy's own agonized sounds. What has Teddy more concerned, though, is when Randall's knee adjusts his weight to rest a knee in the small of Teddy's back, above one kidney, pinning Teddy's unmarked arm under his chest. Teddy can feel the uncomfortable pressure of Randall pressing against his ports, the ports lining almost every vertebra of his spine, and his ragged breathing and near-whimpers of pain couldn't stop. Teddy can feel Randall’s other knee leveled between his thighs, below where his good leg is twisted over his wrecked one and leaving him unable to fully roll over flat on his stomach.

Theo feels - can’t see, with his face mashed against the floor, Randall's frigid, bloodied fingers at the shoulder of his free arm.

His bruised and bitten-open arm. 

Randall doesn’t linger as he drags his fingers up the trail of tiny punctures, the opportunity to draw out Teddy's agony weighed against the humiliation of the Corporate evading his grip again. 

Once his hands encircle Teddy's wrist, Randall wrenches it up and back, before Randall trades hands and pins the wrist down between Teddy's shoulder blades. 

The movements to Theo’s arm, and the subsequent blood getting dragged along his skin and the cuts cause Teddy to cry out properly, almost squirming to try and get away from it. He can't see what's happening, and he can barely even turn his face to see the screens, and even those aren't helpful to see what's happening above him. 

Everything hurts, and Teddy feels freezing, even though he knows his office is usually kept warm enough to ensure that he's at the appropriate temperature for optimal efficiency. 

"What," says Randall, cold as his Insulated blood as his posture settles and he ensures no second opportunity at escape, "do you have to say for yourself."

"Wanted..." Teddy forces himself to drag in a deeper breath, trying to breathe past the pain. "Wanted to do what—"

He's cut off as he screams, words cut off by what feels like Randall shoving his fingers and the cold-freezing-frigid blood into one of the more open ports in his spine. The tenth thoracic vertebra ethernet port, if Theo can think past the pain radiating from his spine into his brain and through his fingertips.

\---

The screaming. Heaven above, his  _ screaming _ . It's musical in a way beyond sentimental hyperbole, it bucks and warbles in pitch like something inhuman, something  _ electronic _ , and Randall can see Teddy's still present enough to hear it and hate it. Hate the loss of control it represents, hear the remnant lilt of it in his moans as Randall withdraws his bloodied digits from the spinal port and gives Teddy a moment.

The pain doesn't stop, not as Teddy keeps screaming. He supposes it's a small blessing that he can't feel  _ too _ much pain from the ports themselves, but the wires they're connected to connect directly to his nervous system, integrated as perfectly as his supervisors and the executives were able to manage, and the pain doesn't stop. 

Randall worries his lip as he waits. Just long enough to hear the ragged, organic tinge return to Teddy's groans, then plunges his fingers back into the port.

Teddy's scream climbs and dives entire  _ octaves _ , like his synthetic voice is his body's final desperate attempt to outmaneuver Randall's domination. Somewhere above Teddy, Randall’s grinning.

And what Teddy can feel is this: Insulated blood dragging against the smooth metal and glass and plastic ports, muffling aspects and freezing others, making it more difficult to try and file some of the pain into sub-processes that would allow him to think past the pain and properly  _ enjoy _ the undivided attention, as well as keep it from filtering to the other Corporates. He knows that they're also flat on their backs, particularly the ones that had been in the game as long as he was, and while he feels somewhat apologetic for that, he also knows that he can't do much. 

"How utterly sickening," says Randall, and he doesn't bother hiding the wonder in his voice. He releases the hand he'd pinned against Teddy's back. It flops to Teddy's side, clenching and unclenching without rhythm, trying to restore sensation only to  _ thrash _ as Randall leans in and licks a wet stripe across a DVI port.

Randall laughs. Shifts the leg that's not planted in Teddy's back, and with exaggerated care rests the knee on Teddy's elbow.

It's only once he finds a pleasing rhythm, an unhurried cadence to the way Teddy's voice ascends into the melodic and shudders back down to the human, only once Randall feels he's got the fundamentals of playing this tightly-wound instrument, that Randall retrieves his little blade. And in those ports that Randall can't manage to press a fingertip into, the USB ports, the HDMI ports, all of those, the pain of the knife's edge settles in. 

He jabs it into Teddy's coaxial audio input, and tries and fails to hum in tune with the thereminic wail. The tiny cuts on his fingers are healing over at this point, so Randall scrapes them across his incisors and tongue, making sure he's thorough in bloodying the ethernet ports.

He picks ports at random, denying Teddy of any pattern or reason or foreseeable end to the knife at his spine. Randall tries to be methodical, tries to gauge how each intrusion and bent pin affects the Corporate, but Teddy's responses grow ever-erratic. Teddy, still reeling from the Insulated blood, still freezing and shivering and cold as he tries to think past all of it, even as it's still painful and he knows there's lingering remnants of Insulated blood in his ports that will refuse to warm up, no matter how long it stays there, can't do anything to try to stop the knife. There's delicate metal inside, and he can't feel exactly where the knife is, but he can feel the way that it pushes and rubs up against the bone of his spine the wrong way, causing him to cry out again. His shivering now is bad enough, on more than one occasion, to send Randall's blade skittering across unmarred skin. 

Teddy doesn't want to be bad, doesn't want to be this vocal, but it  _ hurts _ , and he doesn't know what else to do. He's sure he can feel the knife slip at some points, dragging into his skin for more lines of bleeding bright blue against his dark skin, but he can't stop shivering.

Teddy's cold, and with the pain he's in, he feels far more alone than he has in years, in longer than he can remember while he can't reach out to the familiar synergy connection he has with the others. 

Is he sobbing?

He can't remember ever doing that. Not in a very, very long time, in memories that feel more forgotten than memory. 

"Stop! Please,  _ please _ stop, please. Please, I can't..." Teddy almost hiccups, and that cements in his mind the fact that he was sobbing. He hates breaking down like this, hates that he can't think properly, but he  _ needs _ Randall to stop, if only to give him a moment to breathe and to be able to think. He wants to hide in his software, to bury himself in his lines of code and the visualization software and not return to his physical body any time soon. Not until he could stop being so  _ cold _ , down to his bones and wires and software.

It takes far too long before it dawns on Randall that Teddy's sobbing; so long, in fact, that he almost doesn't recognise the amelodic trill for what it is until there's actual words amongst it. Randall doesn't move the knife, but does ease his weight off of Teddy's splayed out arm, off his back, and leans in close. 

"Tell me what you can't," he whispers, and he slams the butt of the knife so it cuts further fractions of an inch deeper into the plastic guts of a peripheral port. Teddy cries out again as he feels the shift of his port, the knife cutting into him. It's a melodic sob as he tries to grasp at something that can help to steady him. " _ Tell _ me what you want, Teddy," and there's no room in Randall's voice, in his feral grin, for doubt about what Randall's expecting when Teddy  _ tells _ . 

Teddy feels as though he's choking, unable to breathe anymore, and he hates that he's sobbing, that he feels so lost, even as the sound of the grin in Randall's voice almost makes his stomach jump in some sort of pride of having given Randall  _ some _ sort of pleasure. 

"I want you to  _ stop _ ." The words are a low whine, tuned across an octave and sliding across notes as he tries to force himself back to a normal voice. "I want you to put your knife away, I don't want you to give me more of your blood.  _ Please _ stop. I don't...I can't..." Teddy hiccups, and he tries to turn to Randall to look at him, even despite the impossible angle. "Please stop.  _ Please _ , Randall."

And something in Randy's chest, thrumming and sharp, settles as Teddy finally acquiesces, finally  _ asks _ . 

It's good. It's a blessed sight better than his earlier bravado, his strange little hangup like he could take or leave Randall's attention when he so clearly  _ wanted _ . 

They're stubborn creatures, though, these Corporates, so Randy stills his expression and waits to see if Teddy will scrape together again those barriers, shore himself up behind them and pretend he doesn't want all this. Deludes himself again into thinking he's not allowed this, doesn't deserve the world Randall would offer him. 

Teddy doesn't even know if he  _ does _ want Randall to stop entirely, can't seem to crystalize his wants and desires beyond the tangled mess that he managed to say. He wants to give Randall a reason for the grin, he wants to be good and to have Randall maybe praise him at some point. He wants Randall to get away from him and not risk more permanent damage. He doesn't know what he wants, but he wants so much, and he can't manage to seem normal enough to get his words to sound like his voice instead of the synthesized version.

His nerves are a riotous spark of pain and cold and almost-fear, and he knows he's still shivering, even as he tries to stay still for Randall and look at him. He hopes he was good. He hopes his answer was what Randall wanted. Randall deserved good things, perfect things. That helps. Recognizing what he wants for Randall helps him find a way to say something a little better.

Randall sees Teddy's resolve waver like the treble in his modulated voice, and exercises patience until Teddy promises, "I'll be good, I promise I'll be good. I'll be as perfect as I can, just please stop hurting me." Teddy's voice is softer, and while it cracks to synthesized at points, it almost sounds human.

Randall still regards Teddy cold and wordless until he’s sure it's genuine, not plucked off a script and thrown in Randall's face from behind corporate-mandated fortifications. He traces the hacked-up line of Teddy's backbone, until he reaches the knife. Places a steadying palm to try and counter the worsening shiver, and levers out the blade as gently as he can. Randall brushes the hair out of Teddy's eyes as he whines at the motion. 

"Sssh. Hey. It's ok, Teddy. It's ok."

There's pride, and satisfaction, if not quite warmth, in Randall's voice. He wipes the knife off on Teddy's slacks, then folds it shut and returns it to his boot, all in Teddy's line of vision. The pride and satisfaction means far more to Teddy than any attempt at warmth, and a coil of tension is eased, practically looking as though puppet strings were cut as Teddy goes boneless. Yes, he still shivers, but the fear and tension that made them worse eases, and he can't help the almost-smile that makes its way to his lips.

"No more knife, no more blood." He settles down on the floor, seating himself where he can pull Teddy up into a one-sided embrace. Getting pulled up hurts Teddy, though, body and joints aching, and spine protesting the movement, and he knows that it opens cuts again. He can't help the quiet chirp, even as he settles against Randall. "All you had to do was ask," Randall murmurs, and with the lightest kiss on Teddy's temple. It helps, and Teddy smiles at the glow of pride, the fact that Randall seems proud and happy with him helping to chase away the cold, at least to an extent.

"You messed up, you tried taking without asking, and you don't get to do that." Teddy supposes, distantly, that Randall's gentle petting is meant to be soothing, but the pain and cold isn't abating. He doesn't fight it, even if it doesn't exactly  _ help _ , but he still enjoys it enough after the pain and abuse he put up with earlier.

"You want to bite me, fight me, you ask, you stop fearing that want of yours and  _ wield _ it like you deserve to, Teddy, you only have to  _ ask _ and I'll gladly give."

Randall moves in to kiss Teddy, but the cut inside Randall's lip still leaves faint silver in his mouth, the only time Teddy  _ does _ shy away. He doesn’t want the silver blood to touch his lips again, not so soon,

"That's a shame," says Randall, and there's the brief modulation of disappointed whine. It takes Randall a real effort to inject some semblance of warmth in his voice, a little aural reassurance that it wasn't because Teddy had been  _ bad _ . Teddy presses a kiss to Randall's jaw, his cheek, trying to get him to understand that he doesn't mind kisses, just...not on his mouth, not when he knows he'd end up licking the blood again, however accidentally. 

Randall chuckles at Teddy's little whine, leans into the kisses on his face and pecks Teddy lightly where his own lips make contact - the bridge of Teddy's nose, a fluttering eyelid, a brow, his forehead - as Teddy yields to gentle pressure at his scalp and moves to kiss at Randall's throat.

Randall wipes his lips clean as best he can against the back of his hand, and seems content with the both of them merely sat up on the floor - Teddy slumped into him, his hands carding gently through Teddy's hair. Teddy’s boneless and comfortable against Randall, even despite the ghosts of pain and notifications of damage that would take days and weeks to repair and fix. 

"Are you alright here, Teddy, or should I move you?"

The question almost surprises Teddy, and he frowns, eyes opening to flick over towards his chair, before looking back at Randall, and he takes a deep breath before shaking his head. He tries to hold tighter to Randall, even though he's weak and still shivering a bit. 

He'd get to his chair, plug in one of the cables in a little bit, but for now, he wants to press against Randall. He'll upload his side of the recording in a little bit. They had time, and it wasn't like he'd be able to forget any of it any time soon.

Randall leans back, gazes up into the inconspicuous indent that must be the camera providing a birds-eye view of the office, and sighs a deep and satisfied sigh.

The pecks, the light kisses feel nice, and Teddy quietly continues, even as he's far too exhausted to keep himself upright, and instead just rests his head on Randall's shoulder. 

Randall is cool to the touch, but a balm against Teddy's warm skin. He feels nice, and while Teddy can't manage to stay upright on his own power, Randall feels steady, and strong, a pillar of his own that Teddy could lean against and he knows that he doesn't just think that literally. 

Would Randall be able to continue being the pillar he was with Synergy? Could he act as the central tent-pole that they all looked towards and that helped to keep them all upright? Theo knows that Randall would despise what happened to Lenny, but Synergy might smooth out those rough edges. He just needed to catch Randall long enough to convince him that Synergy was best.

They sit like this for - Randall's not sure how long. It could've been hours, could’ve been  _ days _ for all he knew. Teddy's wrapped around him as tightly as his exhaustion-deadened limbs will allow, and where his skin meets Randall's - his head, slumped on Randall's shoulder; his mouth, still dusting the side of Randall's neck with feather-light kisses that force Randall to take deep, steadying breaths; the smooth planes of his back and shoulders under Randall's palms - Teddy is warm and thrumming against him, like a server tower. Warm, in spite of the cold still dancing across his nerves.

Randall wonders, would Teddy lose this warmth when they scrubbed his veins free of the Synergy, and flooded him with silver? When the Moonrays liberated him from this grimy, filthy city, when he was offered a seat in their heaven - would he embrace Heavensmaw's ethos of individuality and shine brightest surrounded by void, or would his frailties persist and enshrine him forever at Randall's side?

Randall can't wait to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

Six hours, forty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds later, Teddy finally moves, frowning as he realizes the time and the sensations and ghosts of thoughts from the rest of his team, however deadened the sensation was from the Insulation finally wearing away from his system. The concern and worry, and he could feel them growing stronger, and he realizes that the twelve hours was almost finished enough that everyone was going to pretend it was finished.

"You need to leave." Teddy's words are quiet, his voice hoarse from the abuse it took earlier. "The others are coming, they're tired of waiting to see what's wrong with me. Get me in my chair, and then you need to start running, otherwise they'll catch you for Synergy."

Teddy doesn't know why he's warning Randall. That would be _good_ , wouldn't it? Bring Randall into the fold so that he could keep him and then he'd understand what was so amazing about it? The only reason why Randall preferred the Moonrays and Insulation was because he didn't know better, right?

Randall stirs at Teddy's words, huffs a little laugh and says "there's nothing wrong with you," nothing his underlings can fix, at any rate, Randall thinks; but he eases himself onto legs that had fallen asleep under Teddy, and lifts the Corporate without further complaint. 

But of course there was something _wrong_ with Teddy. His systems were still firing warnings - even despite Teddy ignoring them - and his knee radiated pain, and so of _course_ the other Corporates were wondering what happened to him and what was wrong with him. "And I'll be just fine, but it's _good_ that you worry for me, Teddy. You're so good." The quiet praise and reassurance that he was good helped, though, even despite the occasional wince and hiss of pain.

It takes a few moments, slow and oh-so cautious, for Randall to arrange him and settle him in his chair, and Teddy adjusts more minutely to ensure that everything would line up with his spine and everything. Randall’s smoothing over Teddy's protests to hurry with a stream of quiet reassurance, it's good, _you're_ good, we're good. 

The wires slowly start to hook up, and Teddy grimaces as they hurt more than usual with the half-ruined ports. Teddy aches, and some of the ports shove themselves in despite the ruined metal instead and the bent casings, but the usual jolt is a familiar routine to settling into his chair.

Randall allows his mercenary mind a reprieve to simply _admire_ the sight of Teddy plugging in, of him slipping into his element so smoothly the sheer _perfection_ of the motion almost makes Randall jealous. That little jolt as everything (everything intact after Randall's ministrations, at any rate) connects, though, that seems pointlessly cruel. Something for Emmett to patch from afar, perhaps, once his boyfriend's rebooted.

Teddy can feel the way the jolt brought down the other Corps, though they fought through it as well as they could. His voice is clearer, calmer, more in control again, and Randall figures he's going to insist again the Moonray start running, so Randall places a warning hand on Teddy's wounded knee and grins.

"You need to—"

"Shut up."

"You-"

"No," says Randall, and squeezes just enough to get his point across. "You _wanted_ something from me, _want_ ed it so bad you let it ooze out the cracks of that _hideous_ little Corporate shell you've been tricked into hiding in."

Randall leans in until his face is inches from Teddy's, and rests his thumb and healed fingers on either side of the Corporate's neck, and the pulse there is still steady. Good.

"If you were showing off for me, Teddy, if choking you out is truly only going to scare you, spur your little peripherals here faster, then ask me to leave. I won't even make you beg."

Teddy’s eyes had already been plugged into the cameras, so he could only see how close Randall was by virtue of the cameras near him. He's close, and Teddy can barely feel the way his hand rests on his throat while buried in his computer systems, and he listens to him, and he tries not to let himself feel too excited at the thought of Randall playing with fire like this, taking the risk that he might not be able to leave fast enough if he keeps playing. 

"If you'd enjoy it as much as you suggested, if you can stomach the thought of _sharing_ that pleasure with the rest of your team..." Randall traces his hand down Teddy's jaw, and seems satisfied there’s no Insulation left on his fingertips as they meet his thumb at Teddy's chin, brings them to rest at Teddy's lips.

"Train those screens behind you on your team. You can keep these ones behind me."

Teddy shifts minutely, just enough to nip lightly at the fingertips at his lips, even as his hands start moving on his keyboards to adjust the screens around them. The ones behind him flip to his team, one screen for each of them with a map in the corner to indicate how close they are, and Teddy left the ones meant for him hidden behind Randall where he wouldn't see.

Already, he’s dumping his memories of the last hours into the proper memory banks, ensuring everything was formatted correctly and getting burned into a drive for Randall. He'd feed as much of it as he could into the drive, and only pass it to Randall as he left.

"You should have three minutes before they get to my office. Allison will be the first. Would you like my help to get out? Or would you rather test your perfection against this tower?"

"Perfection invariably demands sacrifice, Teddy, and I'd _hate_ to make you jealous by leaving a body count on my way out of Seattle." 

Randall flops into Teddy's lap, maps the shell of Teddy's ear with his teeth and murmurs quietly enough to dodge all but the keenest mic pickups. The added weight pushes the cables and plugs further into ruined ports, and Teddy can't help the smallest of grimaces as he adjusts to the added feedback. It wasn't anything more than an inconvenience, after all. 

"I'll carve a perfect path through your fortress next time, Teddy. For today, though?" 

and 

"Set me free," says Randall. murmuring into Teddy’s ear. 

Leaning close like this sends a shiver through Teddy’s spine, especially at the idea of Randall carving a path through the tower. There's a part of him that immediately _wants_ that, wants to see Randall rip this place apart, but that's overwhelmed by the recognition that it wasn't correct, that it wasn't right and that there wasn't any reason for Randall ever to want to rip apart the Corporation. After all, the corporation was home, and safe, and they took care of him. 

Teddy doesn’t risk speaking any of that, not that he could as Randall’s hands so perfectly circle Teddy's throat and begin to squeeze. _That_ felt nice, a clean edge of sharp pain unsullied by the Insulated blood, and Teddy gasps as he quickly turns off the warning bells.

"You _want_ me to love you the way you deserve, the way your colleagues never could. You hone that want, loose me from this place like an arrow, and make sure the chaff stay out of my path."

Teddy nods, a smile on his face as he closes his eyes for a moment. "Do you have a bluetooth headset? I have earpieces in the top right drawer." Teddy's words are strained and hoarse with Randall squeezing, but he knows they wouldn’t have too much time to waste, even as he begins closing and locking fire doors to stall Allison as long as possible. They'd have a few more minutes, depending upon how angry she grew and if anyone would fight him.

Randall barks, a sharp derisive laugh at the question, like he'd risk carrying any vulnerable technology into the den of a foe like Teddy. He'd not even brought his phone with him. 

Teddy's not surprised by the laugh, not surprised by the unstated denial. He didn't think that Randall would have done such a thing, and he'd be disappointed if Randall _had_.

Randall has to slide off of Teddy's lap to reach the drawer, but manages to keep one hand at Teddy's throat, grip shifting to the side. The shift in grip has Teddy gasping, almost more in pain, but certainly not sounding like just a gasp of pain. Randall’s fingers almost reach the upper spinal ports, and his thumb crushes in at the top of Teddy's larynx, and he praises Teddy low and fervent without pause.

"So clever, so good, so _perfect_ ," Randall hisses as he scrabbles in the drawer, setting its probably-organised contents askew until he digs out a headset. He's already pressing himself against Teddy for another kiss - chest to chest and thrilled with Teddy's confused little sounds of pain-pleasure-pressure on ports, trying to steal what little breath Teddy has left.

Randall doesn't hook the device over his ear properly until they break away, until Randall leans back enough so he can see the stalled progress of the other Corps, his own wild grin on the screens at his peripheries. 

"Beautiful."

Randall is beautiful. This is delightful and feels good, and Teddy almost squirms as he kisses Randall and tries to breathe past the crushing hand around his throat. Eventually he stops trying as much as he can manage, stars appearing in front of his eyes as he tries to keep distracting the others as much as possible. 

One hand continues flying over the keyboard while the other reaches for Randall's ear, tapping the headset three times so that it would connect to his system. That way he could tell Randall where to go, guide him through the tower and then the city. 

After a few moments, Teddy quietly places a script into the chip for Randall, one that would wake Emmett up earlier and help clear out the lingering remains from the software. The information had been downloaded, so he pulls that out of the small drive on his chair before pressing it against Randall's chest. 

"For you. Two gifts, one for you, one for Emmett." He's barely able to manage the words at this point, though the synthesizer helps to make sure he's understandable, as inhuman as he sounds.

Randall places his free hand over Teddy's, plucking the chip from his fingers and lacing their remaining digits together.

"Thank you, Teddy," says Randall, and there's more than simple praise or gratitude in it; there's a hunger in his voice that startles Randall, a deeper satisfaction far beyond the sadistic little thrill he normally gets from punishing the deserving, from _taking_ what's rightfully his.

Teddy's fingers pause as he feels Randall hold his hand for a moment before he gets a small, almost shy smile on his face, despite everything happening. A properly genuine expression, and not one that was tired or in pain or tainted by anything with the corporation. Just Teddy, almost flustered by such a simple gesture of affection. 

He shouldn't give Randall that chip, not with all of the information that would be on it, even if it had been stripped down only to the video feeds of the two of them. He knows that there's more than enough information about this room with just the cameras, considering they see into almost every spectrum available, but he wants Randall to have it regardless.

Everything Teddy is offering now is a gift - his trust, his cooperation, Teddy himself, and Randall wants to offer Teddy the fullest extent of his gratitude.

Why Teddy had given Randall the script for Emmett, though...Teddy doesn't know. Maybe because he wants Randall to be proud of him. Maybe he does like the idea of someone seeing _him_ instead of the whole team, even if he doesn't know why he would ever want to be pulled from his team. He never had wanted that before, so why would Randall's attention on him change that?

There’s no time left between the two of them for that, though. Randall sees it on the map, sees it in the escalating movement of Teddy at his keys.

So Randall places slow kisses on Teddy's hand instead, and presses his thumb down the front of Teddy's neck with each one. "You were magnificent." Kiss. "You've made me so happy." Kiss. "And I _will_ return for you." 

The kisses are good, and the way Randall's thumb presses against his neck feels good, and the glow and warmth of pride and happy-content-feelgoodness in his chest at the praise trips the other Corps up almost as much as his fire doors did.

Still, there isn’t much time left, and Teddy finally moves to hold Randall's wrist, gently trying to tug to get him to let go. It’s a clear enough signal, and Randall tries not to make a noise of frustration, tries his damnedest so Teddy won’t be left wondering if he'd left Randall unsatisfied, hadn't done enough. 

Randall needs to leave. They'll be able to talk while he runs, but once Randall leaves the city, the headset would be useless and unable to connect them, at least until Randall comes back.

The Moonray leans in for a final kiss, loosening his grip at last so he can properly cradle Teddy's face in his hands, until he hears the keyboard clatter and a notification _dings_ in his ear piece. 

Time to go. Randall pockets the chip one-handed, looks up at the map, and Teddy's cameras will pick up from the flicker of Randall's pupils that he scarcely even _looked_ at the screens trained on the other Corps. 

The hand still on Teddy's face drags down his body, down his neck, his shoulder, his arm until Randall gives his hand a final parting squeeze- 

-and he heads for the door, not taking his eyes off Teddy until he pulls it closed behind him- 

-and he's gone.

Too soon. 

Just a vague sense of loss, even as Allison finally made her way into the office as Randall left. 

The screens around him had reverted to showing their usual sights of the city and the building, with the ones that fed directly into Theo’s eyes revealing Randall's progress through the tower. He desperately wants to properly guide Randall through the tower, wants to tell him personally which way to go, and while in a way he _was_ , it was instead a synthesized voice as he used his own to speak with Allison. 

A training simulation, Allison, and yes, he's aware of how hurt he is. Yes, he knows that's a ridiculous lie, and he knows that everyone knows he's lying, but she can check the cameras herself if she really wants to call him on it, but it was for training purposes, and he'd appreciate it if she would let him finish, _please, Allison._

And after a few minutes she does, and so Theo’s voice properly begins to guide Randall through this lion's den, ensuring that he wouldn't come across anyone before he was home free. 

He quietly murmurs directions and words, but still...he misses Randall already, even with the lingering chill still in his bones, and even while he can still see him on the screen. 

But no. The next time he would see Randall will likely be during a game, and he will be in unison with his team, and he will be better. 

This was a momentary lapse in judgement. 

He wouldn't be so weak again.


End file.
